


If Tomorrow Comes

by scifiromance



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifiromance/pseuds/scifiromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After suffering tragic losses, Seven and Chakotay have to cope with the few remaining, anxious days of a dangerous and emotionally draining pregnancy...<br/>C/7. Post Endgame. Rated M for adult, emotive themes and grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chakotay’s heavy eyes creaked open as the tuneless buzz of his alarm clock hit his ears. Tired as he was however, he was instantly alert and hurriedly reached over to hit off the killjoy machine for the day. As the room fell into near silence once again, only the occasional note of birdsong to the distant roar of a vehicle outside managing to penetrate the bedroom along with the morning sunlight streaming unrepentantly through the curtains, he began to climb out of bed as unobtrusively as possible. Still, as he slowly started to pull on his clothes, he couldn’t help but glance over at his wife on the other side of the bed, despite his resolution to not disturb her. As always though, the sight of Seven of Nine held his gaze resolutely. He felt a powerful flash of guilt surge through him as well as anticipatory pleasure as he took in her figure, twisted into an exceedingly awkward position, halfway between lying on her back and her side, in an obvious attempt to accommodate the unyielding bulk of her 38 and a half week pregnancy belly. The painfully vivid purple crescents shadowing her lightly closed eyes told him she’d been mostly unsuccessful, he’d felt her restless movements throughout the night despite the fact that for weeks she’d been, not as subtly as she believed, shifting away from him in bed to avoid waking him. He shook his head ruefully as he saw that she was practically hanging off the edge of the bed this morning and moved to gently reposition her.

He cringed, his hands falling away from her, as Seven’s distinctively piercing blue eyes flew open and stared up at him. Her metal encased eyebrow arched weakly, “Chakotay?”

“Good morning.” He said softly after letting go of a regretful sigh, “I said I’d go into work this morning to prepare class plans for my paternity leave substitute, but I really don’t have to go if you want me to stay…”

“You explained your schedule to me last night as well as the day before that.” Seven reminded him testily, “And I told you repeatedly that I’d be fine, did I not?” She regretted the blatant heat of irritation in her words almost as soon as they’d left her mouth, but it was too late to bite them back. Feeling out of control in this way, brief bursts of negative emotion that she couldn’t restrain, was a frustratingly regular occurrence she couldn’t suppress and often felt upset over even after they’d passed.

Chakotay gave a slight sigh, reaching over to stroke her face and hair as he perched at the end of the bed for a moment. “I know, I’m just…” He trailed off as he felt Seven’s tiny nod under his hand, it went without saying. “I’ll probably be finished by twelve, and then I’ll head over to Boston and collect Irene from the transporter depot to bring her back here, okay?”

Seven nodded again in acknowledgement, her head flopping back against her pillow with a heavy sigh. “Remember that her transport from Stockholm was rescheduled to arrive at 1300 hours.”

“I know, you told me last night.” They exchanged a teasing smirk, the bitter note of tension lingering from Seven’s snappy rebuke dissipating. Chakotay remained where he was for a few moments, reassuring himself as he continued absently caressing her, but then breathed a brittle sigh as he glanced at the clock on the small wall mounted console near the door. “I have to get going.” He admitted, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek, his lips curving into a smile as she managed to move enough to let their lips meet tenderly. “Remember to send your bio-scans to the Doctor.” He murmured fretfully, though he knew the reminder was totally redundant, Seven would never forget something so vital. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from fussing over her, although he was pointedly aware that she hated the new habit, it was the only thing that alleviated his, often overwhelming, feelings of helplessness.

“I will.” She answered wearily as he rose reluctantly from his place beside her and moved towards the bedroom doorway.

“The Admiral called after you were in bed last night, expressing her regret that we’re not having a baby shower but that it’s probably for the best. People at work keep asking if they should buy pink or blue presents too…”

Seven stiffened, her swollen abdomen becoming even more prominent under the thin summer duvet, “Why can’t they understand that we decided that we didn’t want to find out?” she said in a low tone, her voice weighted down by some unexpressed emotion.

“They’re just happy for us Seven.” Chakotay explained patiently, as he had many times before, though now with a hint of reprimand in his soft voice. To be honest, he’d initially been as bemused as their friends still were by Seven’s stubborn refusal to learn the sex of their baby. It was a strange departure for the woman who hated the unexpected and was a consummate planner, he liked to think she’d just learned the value of a good surprise after ten years of individuality, but in his heart of hearts he knew it was a layer of her insecurities. Deciding to let it lie for now, he merely added, “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

She smiled at him then, that striking, and once rare, smile he loved. “Have a good day Chakotay.” She ordered her eyes to close, her body to settle, and sensed Chakotay relaxing a little as he left, taking that as her reward for the pretence. No matter how much he put on his familiar calm and comforting First Officer stance around her, she could read his crushing anxiety as well as her own, in his every hawk like protective glance as well as every worry frayed word. A large part of her was guiltily relieved he was gone, the pressure of his fears piled on top of her own was smothering. Almost as soon as that feeling had become dominant however, as the baby fluttered uneasily inside her like a trapped bird, she was suddenly consumed by an irrational urge to call him back, to beg him to stay with her. At that moment she longed for the solidity of his body against hers, to hear his whispered reassurances and promises of a bright future as a family of three reaching her ears…

As she became aware of the hot liquid of tears building behind her already blurry, strained eyes, Seven forced herself to get a grip back on herself. Eventually she dragged Chakotay’s pillow up onto her face with one hand and breathed in his familiar, slightly musky scent until she’d calmed down, her, now fragile, emotional equilibrium restored.

She then decided that it was time to tackle the task of getting up, something of a challenge considering her current physical state. If lying down was difficult, the weight of the baby always pressing on _something_ whether on her back or her side and lying on her front was of course out of the question, then moving to stand up was almost impossible. Slowly, she gripped the sheets for support and pushed herself upright, taking one last wry glance down at her feet before they disappeared from her line of vision, before swinging herself awkwardly to sit on the still warm patch on the edge of the bed that Chakotay had recently vacated. She was pleased to be out from under the duvet, the summer of 2384 had supported one of the longest heat waves on record in Massachusetts and even now, in mid September, it was uncomfortably hot for her sensitised internal thermostat, pregnancy had knocked down her tolerance for almost anything down a few pegs. The house was a modern one, younger than Voyager in fact, but these past couple of months the environmental systems may as well have constituted a single electric fan for all the good it did her. She pushed her long, slightly damp hair out of her face, she’d let it grow out in recent years, at the moment it brushed the base of her shoulder blades, and warily reached for the already prepped hypospray sitting waiting on her bedside table. With one efficient, practised movement she pressed it to her carotid artery as instructed, her body slumping forwards slightly as the familiar, but still overwhelming sensation of weakness washed over her. She had to keep her head between her knees for a minute or two before her implants managed to adapt to the onslaught of drugs and her world steadied again. The Doctor had referred to these thrice daily injections as trying to strike the ‘delicate balance between life and death’. Not his most tactful analogy, but a correct one Seven knew. This cocktail had been designed to neutralise her nanoprobes to stop them crossing the placenta, or at least not assimilating the baby if they did so, but the difficult thing was that the nanoprobes had to be active enough to sustain Seven’s implants that kept _her_ alive. Increasing the dosage by minute levels every day of the pregnancy, and keeping her regenerating regime down to half an hour at a time, meant that according to the Doctor they were winning the battle. Perhaps he was right, she was past the point where her baby would be considered term, something she and Chakotay had been warned not to hope for. She should be happy, should have reached the point where she was relatively relaxed about things, but the opposite was true. The closer she got to safety; the fear of not getting there in the end only grew.

Remembering Chakotay’s reminder, she quickly scanned herself with the tricorder and submitted the readings into the computer console to be instantly sent to the Doctor at Starfleet Medical for analysis. He’d warned her not to read her vitals with her untrained eye, but she noted with relief that her blood pressure remained within normal parameters. If it rose, she’d been told unequivocally, she’d be on bed rest in hospital, but she’d been spared that so far at least. In truth, not everything had been difficult in this pregnancy, her blood pressure hadn’t risen, she hadn’t developed gestational diabetes, but it was probably also fair to say that she’d been struck down by almost anything else even vaguely attributed as a pregnancy symptom. ‘Morning sickness’ had been more accurately 24 hour sickness in her case until she was well into her second trimester. It had caused her only long stint in hospital and still lingered on as a ball of nausea rooted in her gut, although the Doctor said that at this point the cause was most likely the medicine to preserve her pregnancy rather than the condition itself. Moving fully onto her feet made her consider for a moment that maybe bed rest wouldn’t be such a terrible ordeal after all, the pain in her back was such that it was as if someone had pulled all the muscles in her torso taut and bunched them in a too tight knot at the base of her spine. Looking at the stretched surface of her abdomen, the implants built into her torso excruciatingly reconfigured, the possibility wasn’t out of the question.

Deciding against a shower for now, she made her way across the bedroom at a slow waddle, recalling her once long, easy strides nostalgically as she did so, she found of the only ‘maternity’ dresses that still fitted her at this stage and put it on. At one point, she’d looked relatively passable in maternity clothes, but in the last month that point had long since sailed past. She considered breakfast as she shuffled onto the landing, but the nausea that had made itself known this morning after a two day break and the thought of struggling down the stairs was enough to persuade her to put the meal off. She’d had a lot of problems with her hips and pelvis in these latter stages and walking down stairs, with the balls of her hip joints rocking in the sockets as they tried and failed to evenly balance the weight of the still growing baby, had become an activity she’d never expected to become so painful.

Something about the day, maybe because her aunt was coming to begin her stay, pulled her towards the new nursery, a room she normally denied herself access to. She and Chakotay hadn’t intended to have any help, in fact originally Chakotay had intended to return part-time to his university lecturing position after Christmas, but the Doctor had told her poor, anxious husband in no uncertain terms that he was to take every day of leave he could to help her recover as well as care for the baby. This declaration must have sent a subliminal SOS to their old friends because Admiral Janeway had immediately volunteered to leave San Francisco for a few weeks to stay with them and help, as had B’Elanna. They’d refused; B’Elanna had Miral about to start school and two year old Owen, who took strongly after his father for sheer mischievousness, to look after. As for their former Captain, they were still very close but privately the couple had come to the conclusion that several weeks with Kathryn Janeway, with a hormonal Seven tending towards the clashes of the past and all three of them likely to be sleep-deprived and anxious, wouldn’t be good for the lasting friendship or the sanity of those involved. As her pregnancy had progressed however, Chakotay had become increasingly concerned about caring for a newborn and his physically vulnerable wife completely by himself and had coaxed her into taking up her Aunt Irene’s offer to stay with them for as long as they felt she was needed.  Seven hadn’t resisted, she loved her aunt and knew that, after so many years apart, they were now closer than many a mother and daughter. Standing alone at the threshold of the nursery, she suddenly longed for Irene’s comforting, easy going maternal presence.

The room had only been completed a week before, and only then because Chakotay had put his foot down and forced her to commit, to express hope, saying that they were already ‘cutting it fine’ for the room to be ready before the baby arrived. The gender neutral, buttercup yellow paint still filled the room with it’s sharp scent, the white painted pine changing table hadn’t been fully built, but otherwise the room looked ready. The large photographs Chakotay had nailed to the wall against which the crib rested caught Seven’s eye as she took a deep breath and walked inside. There was the iconic Voyager portrait of the senior officers that everyone in said photograph owned a copy of, taken the day they’d investigated their ancestors as the Captain’s enthusiastic request. Seven smiled to herself wryly, barely able to recognise herself in the distant woman who stood at the edge of the frame. It wasn’t likely that she’d fit into one of those biosuits ever again, not that that was a great loss. The second photograph in the row was one of her personal favourites, herself and Icheb standing together at the end of his graduation ceremony from Starfleet Academy. He was a Lieutenant now, having been quickly promoted as he deserved, but had assured her that he was taking leave from the U.S.S Gambit as soon as he had word of her baby being born. The third photo was another group shot, this time of the wedding party at Kathryn Janeway’s long delayed nuptials to Mark Johnson. It was a romantic story, the marriage he’d made to replace her had fallen apart within a year, and after Voyager had returned they’d somehow managed to pick off where they’d left off and had been married within six months. It had been Seven’s first, and only, experience in the role of bridesmaid, along with B’Elanna. Naomi Wildman had been the flower girl, with little Miral playing the role of page. Chakotay, Tom, Harry and even Tuvok had been groomsmen and in the photograph Seven, in her strapless turquoise dress, hair down as Kathryn had insisted, was coiled into a suited Chakotay’s side, it would be mere weeks before they themselves would be engaged to be married.

The last photograph was, of course, one of their own wedding; in contrast it was of the couple by themselves. She loved looking into Chakotay’s beaming face in that picture and knowing that the look of love that had been in his eyes then was still there now. They’d been blessed with a happier relationship, now a five year marriage, than Seven could have ever hoped for after hearing the alternate Admiral Janeway’s tragic prediction for them. They’d stuck to Chakotay’s pleading advice from that day, that they’d think only of today and not tomorrow, but it had often been more difficult than either of them could have imagined. She’d been pregnant before. The first time had been just after their engagement. She’d reached four weeks, barely enough time to realise and hope beyond hope, before a rush of blood and then tears had heralded the loss. She could still recall the agony of the aftermath, the guilt that had surpassed even the grief, self-destructively trying to persuade Chakotay to leave her, the damaged, useless half-woman. It had been a long road at the time, Chakotay convincing her over again, even more powerfully than before, that he loved her no matter what. It was painful for her to admit it, but she realised now that their marriage would not be as strong as it was if that fear, that Chakotay couldn’t _possibly_ love someone like her, hadn’t finally been forced from her heart. What really haunted her then, was another memory. They had been married almost two years when she’d fallen pregnant again. This time the Doctor was cautiously optimistic, he’d studied what had caused the first miscarriage and was sure he could combat the nanoprobes somehow. That was when the pioneering version of the drug had been formulated and it had worked, for a while. She’d had all the classic symptoms, morning sickness, exhaustion, mood swings. Their former crew had been informed at the third Voyager reunion, just as she’d passed the traditional safety margin of 12 weeks and was beginning to show. Then, at 16 weeks their daughter never moved and the Doctor had to admit her to hospital to await another miscarriage. It didn’t take long of course, and neither did the flood of condolences, soon Seven had burned bridges with a few acquaintances by screaming at them never to mention it ever again. Real friends had been flawlessly supportive, but they’d left California within that year for a new start on the East Coast. Chakotay had been offered his dream job lecturing in Native American History, his father’s lifelong passion, at several Ivy League Universities and was soon travelling between them, and Seven herself had been offered tenure at MIT. Her new students weren’t as efficient as Icheb had been but they were eager and so they’d soon settled into a contented, happy life together, trying to put the traumas of the past behind them.

It wasn’t entirely to be however. Despite their joint resignation to the fact that they would be childless, and using birth control to remain so, just after New Year Seven had discovered that she was, somehow, pregnant again. It would be an understatement to say that she had felt horrified, a fact that filled her with guilt now every time the baby kicked her. She _couldn’t_ withstand another loss like the last one, and was convinced the odds were worse. She was older, would be 36 by the time the baby was due, and knew her implants were as deadly as before. She’d had to have three long counselling sessions with the Doctor, who’d earnestly said he’d refined the drug further and would monitor her more closely, before she’d even informed Chakotay. He’d found it just as difficult as she had at first, but somewhere along the line he’d let hope in, and as she stared down into the empty cot with fresh tears streaming down her face, she had to admit to herself that she hadn’t done the same quite yet.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Seven woke with a jolt as she heard the front door close downstairs, that sound almost immediately followed by the familiar thudding rhythm of Chakotay sprinting up the stairs to check on her. She shuddered slightly as the heavy cloud of exhaustion lifted and she remembered where she was. After the hasty, bitter, but necessary tears had been released, she’d sunk into the padded rocking chair all of their old Voyager crewmates had insisted on clubbing together to purchase to present to her at the reunion almost three months ago. She’d merely intended to sit there for a few minutes to recover her calm, but obviously she’d fallen asleep…

“Seven?” Chakotay called as he reached the landing, giving a start of surprise when he turned enough to see that she was in the nursery. “What are you doing in here?” he asked as he stepped inside, trying to keep his voice lightly curious but instead sounding wary, his smile forced and his eyes uncertain. He’d witnessed her avoiding this room too often in the past few to be unconcerned.

Seven self-consciously ran a hand over her face, knowing from the itchy feeling around her lids that her eyes were probably still at least a little red. “Just thinking.” She said quickly, guilt making her fingers clench around the arm of the rocking chair as he gave her a long, searching look.

“Oh Annika…” Irene’s soft gasp of delight interrupted the awkward moment as the older woman, who’d followed Chakotay upstairs at a steadier pace, reached the room’s threshold, “What a lovely little room this is now that you’ve decorated, it’s so sunny and light!”

Her words made Seven glance around the room with a new perspective, the negative tint of the past pushed aside. It really was a pleasant room, with a big window that looked directly down on the flourishing trees whose leaves were already tinged with varying shades of amber to russet as autumn began to take hold, even if the current temperatures still told of an Indian summer. “It is.” She finally agreed softly, smiling a weak but honest smile at her husband over her aunt’s shoulder, “Chakotay is responsible for the manual work of the decoration, although…” She shifted in the chair and pointed out the opposite corner, where the yellow paint didn’t quite meet the crisp white of the skirting board, “I’ve noticed a flaw or two.”

Chakotay wasn’t about to be fooled by the idea that she’d spent the last four hours in here checking for issues with the paintwork, but he was glad enough to see the light-hearted, teasing glint in her eyes that he let the evasion pass. “See what it’s like being married to a perfectionist Irene?” He gave an exaggerated, humorously long-suffering sigh as he laughingly when to assess what Seven meant, “I’ll fix it before the end of the week honey.” He assured her as he saw that she hadn’t entirely been joking.

Seven replied with her old habitual birdlike nod, “That would be acceptable.” She replied with amused gravity.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Irene countered as she walked up to her niece, “I think, looking at you, he’d better do it sooner rather than later.” She saw Seven’s face waver at that and knelt down to wrap in her a gentle hug, “You’re looking well älskling, I promise.” She murmured reassuringly in her ear as she pulled back, giving her taut, swollen body a warm, cursory glance as she did so, “You just look like every other woman who’s _really_ ready for her pregnancy to be over, that’s all.”

Seven awkwardly began to reposition as she braced herself for struggling to her feet. “That would be a fair assessment.” She muttered breathlessly as her arms buckled under her weight. Her once superhuman lung capacity had been severely impeded by her baby seeking out any space in which to grow inside her.

Chakotay stepped in to carefully help pull her up, his arm pulling her protectively into his side as soon as she managed to stand. “Irene’s going to make us a homemade lunch, isn’t that great?”

Seven blushed at the imposition, “Aunt Irene, you are under no obligation to do anything. As our guest you should…”

Irene waved her objections away, “Nonsense min flicka.” She shushed her firmly, “I’m a special kind of guest this time, the kind that’s happy to act as surrogate chef, maid, nanny, as anything you two need until you get back on your feet, okay?” She smiled in relief as Seven nodded slowly, “Good. Now, I brought fresh ingredients here from the farmers’ market at home, since it’s still so hot here how do you fancy a salad?”

Seven finally allowed herself to show her gratitude, “I’d like that. _Someone_ …” She shot Chakotay a significant look, “…won’t let me stand on my feet for more than five minutes so I haven’t been able to cook anything.”

“Hey, I was just enforcing the Doctor’s advice…” Chakotay reminded her in retort, “I’m the one that really suffers from that, I’ve been spoiled by your cooking for over six years and this past month or so I’ve had to go completely cold turkey!”

Seven allowed herself a laugh along with Irene, who said, “I’d better get started on remedying that then shouldn’t I?”

 With that Irene bustled down the stairs, with Chakotay and Seven following at a much slower pace, Chakotay half-carrying her down at his insistence when he saw her struggling. By the time they’d made their way into the kitchen and had settled side by side at the table, Irene had already set out the vegetables in preparation and was halfway through making a bowl of coleslaw. “So…I already know that Voyager’s Doctor will have the hospital all set out for you, and I’ve seen the nursery all prepared, but have you had any luck picking out a name yet?” She asked companionably as she washed the lettuce under the tap.

Chakotay looked over at his wife; half-hoping that looking through names was what she’d been doing all that time in the nursery. The regretful sigh that left Seven’s lips told him not. “No…we have yet to decide.” She admitted quietly, biting her lip as she caught Chakotay’s momentary disappointed expression. As with learning the baby’s sex, she’d been equally reluctant to consider, let alone settle on, a name for the baby. With her eidetic memory, she could recall every name they had discussed during her previous pregnancy; they hadn’t reached that point the first time. Before they’d discovered that it had been a girl, she and Chakotay had created a shortlist of both boys’ and girls’ name to choose from. Now, although she was guiltily aware that it was unfair that this new baby remained completely nameless, all of those names she’d liked then felt like a bad taste in her mouth and she hadn’t gotten the same pleasure out of discovering alternatives. She suspected Chakotay felt somewhat the same way though, since he hadn’t pressed the issue any more than she had and had also left the old, carefully catalogued list untouched.

She was pulled out of her thoughts as Chakotay clasped his hand around hers tightly in understanding, his throat moving up and down in a small gulp as he too considered a reply. Seeing that vulnerability in him made Seven give the hand holding her an empathic squeeze as he said, “No, we haven’t decided the first name at all.” He turned his gaze towards Seven again, “We did decide that we didn’t want the baby to have a middle name as well as a first name though.” He told Irene.

“Yes, we did.” Seven confirmed, “We thought that, since we have so many people who are special to us and have done a great deal for us it would be wrong to honour any particular one in that way.”

“Well, I for one think you’re perfectly right about that.” Irene assured them worriedly as she brought the finished salad over to the table and sat down beside them, “It can be a nice tradition of course, both you and I have middle names Annika, but I decided against it for my boys…” She grimaced grimly, “…too many arguments with Harald’s mother. I’d already had a fight on my hands to keep my maiden name at work.” Seven smiled to herself, she’d met her aunt’s firebrand of a mother-in-law, the mother of her late Uncle Harald, at a family reunion two years ago. Even at ninety, ‘Grandma Nora’ seemed to have the ability to have her two cousins Jakob and Matthias, ten and twelve years older than her respectively, a Federation diplomat and a neuroscientist, quivering in their boots even now. “Anyway…” Irene continued in a lighter tone, “…sometimes you don’t know if the name will really suit until you see that little face in your arms. Jakob’s name stuck, but I remember Matthias was our third choice name until we met him.” She chuckled to herself at some private joke.

Seven gave both Irene and Chakotay a shaky smile, “Yes, it may well be like that. Our baby will be an individual after all, perhaps it is better that we don’t choose beforehand.”

Chakotay grinned back at her hopefully as she subtly lifted his hand to rest on her stomach where the baby was kicking her.

* * *

 

Seven forced the air her shocked body had sharply gasped in as the contraction peaked back out in a slow exhale. 57.35 seconds in duration and following 8 minutes and 43.6 seconds after its predecessor. These statistics were oddly soothing in their own way, she was already counting down, in nanoseconds, until the next one, but she supposed focusing detachedly on these numbers was letting her divert her attention from what they actually meant. She was in labour; one she doubted was false despite knowing of B’Elanna’s experiences. This had been going on for too long… Yet, looking around where she was, her and Chakotay’s en-suite, she wasn’t exactly acting on these rational conclusions. It hadn’t exactly been what she’d expected either, despite her access to the memories of billions of assimilated mothers. The contractions reached the highest level of pain of course, but she hadn’t anticipated being quite this uncomfortable in the gaps between them. For hours, it had felt as if some invisible pair of hands had her back and stomach between the palms and was pressing hard, individual fingers of pain clawing at each muscle. When a contraction came, that pressure changed to a wringing squeeze that left her breathless each time. It hurt sitting like this, but one glance at her shaking legs told her she wouldn’t be able to stand. She didn’t really want to look at anything, her head was throbbing already and the unusually bright lights of the bathroom were making her squint. Wiping a hand across her forehead she dazedly wondered why the gusts coming from the bathroom fan were making her shiver but yet beads of sweat were still a constant on her brow. Her stomach rolled unpleasantly and she dropped her head onto one of her quivering knees, tears flowing under her lids as her thumping heart began to race faster, its frantic beat roaring through her ears.

“Seven?” Chakotay’s voice bounced off the closed door, but soon his clumsy, sleep numbed footsteps heralded his entrance, the light from their bedroom framing his tall figure. A lump rose in her throat as she watched him take her in, his face draining of colour. “What’s wrong?” He breathed a panicky laugh as his rationale answered his own question, “How long have you been in here?”

Despite that he spoke in a startled whisper, Seven heard the note of reproach, though his lack of real anger under the fear and frustration made her want to cry. “Ninety…two minutes…” She muttered, her answer broken by the first stabbing spasm of the start of a contraction.

“Why didn’t…” Chakotay started before shaking his head and moving towards her, “We have to get you to the hospital sweetheart…”

Seven sucked a breath in, the exercises forgotten. “Ugh…” She groaned, her stomach lurching as the contraction yanked at her abdomen, “I’m going to…vomit…” Chakotay acted quickly, snatching up the waste basket and thrusting it into her hands. Hunching over it, she dry heaved as the contraction intensified, then eased, only able to cough up a little bile that burned her throat but brought no relief. Tears blurred her vision as she lifted her head and saw Chakotay’s pinched eyes gazing into hers, his warm hands encircling the cold skin at her wrists. “I…don’t want to go!” she sobbed out, the tears choking her even more than the pain as utter confusion reflected in his face. “I’m…so afraid…” She admitted in a tearful whisper, self-hatred seizing her in tandem with the constant ghost of fear.

She saw enough of his face to see understanding dawn before it disappeared as he knelt and embraced her, clutching her to him, his face buried almost as deep into her shoulder as hers was in his. “I know.” He whispered thickly as she realised just how much his indomitable frame was shaking like a leaf as she felt him pull in a lungful of air, “I am too.” His fingers curled around her flimsy dressing gown, “But we have to go Seven…”

She was deaf to that, her wet face pressing into his neck where she could feel the reassuring throb of his pulse. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…sorry…” She wept, frightened even as she did so by these continual outbursts.

Chakotay’s voice wouldn’t get over the lump in his own throat for a second, “You have nothing to be sorry for, shh…”

“Annika? Chakotay?” Irene’s concerned voice made Seven jerk back from Chakotay, her tear stained face reddening further in shame. “Oh…” Irene gasped as she saw her niece hunched over with pain that could only have one reason, “It’s started my love?” She walked in slowly, as if trying not to startle Seven, smiling at her gently, “I thought it might be tonight, when you hardly ate anything at dinner.” Seven managed a nod as Irene put firm hands on her shoulders, she’d been suspecting that her aunt had been watching her for signs since she’d arrived two days ago and this was confirming that thought.

“Since dinner? Before dinner?” Chakotay echoed incredulously, “Seven, it’s two in the morning now…”

“That doesn’t matter now.” Irene reminded him firmly, guiding him into helping her to get Seven upright and standing before grasping both of her hands. “Come and I’ll help you get dressed Annika while Chakotay calls the hospital for transport and gets your bag.” She coaxed, leading a now quiet Seven back into the bedroom, still holding her hand as she searched around the room for clothes. Chakotay hovered like a ship without a compass, unsure whether or not he could risk leaving Seven’s side even for a few seconds. “Chakotay, remember what I asked, she won’t have the baby yet but we need to be ready to go.” Irene instructed, taking pity on him.

“Right.” Chakotay breathed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to summon up all of his Starfleet training about a keeping a cool head, “I’d better call and let some people know too…” He muttered distractedly.

“No!” Seven exclaimed pleadingly, “Don’t tell anyone else, we’ll tell them when it’s over, please Chakotay…”

Chakotay swallowed as the sudden resurgence of Seven’s fear brought his own back to the fore. “Alright, I’ll just contact the Doctor and tell him we’re on the way in.”

Irene watched Seven’s face crumple as Chakotay hurriedly departed, “Let me get you dressed Annika…” She repeated softly.

Seven took several deep breaths to calm herself as she submitted and began to change from her nightdress and dressing-gown, both already soaked with sweat. “I upset him Aunt Irene, I shouldn’t have said anything…” She fretted.

“Listen Annika…” Irene interrupted, “Chakotay is not upset with you, that man never truly could be, he loves you so much. He’s just worried about you and your baby, just like you are.” She gave her a quick hug, “It’s okay to be scared, everyone is. I was, your mother and father were, that’s normal, but that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t deal with the fact that this baby has chosen tonight to come.”

Seven felt a sob break free but managed to force her voice past it, “I’ve tried to be brave, for months, but I’m failing. I…I can’t lose another, I can’t do that to Chakotay again…”

“You _won’t_.” Irene replied desperately, bringing her hand together with Seven’s to rest on the latter’s tight belly. “It’s kicking you right now, and you’re in labour. You have to believe that in a few hours you’ll be holding your baby and all this will be over.”

* * *

 

“Are you sure she can’t just lie down Doctor?” Chakotay asked beseechingly as he helped Seven circle the perimeter of the high-risk birthing room at Starfleet Medical for what felt to him like the fiftieth time. He was sure that to Seven it felt like a lot more, shuffling around while being wracked with ever more numerous and painful contractions, all while under the instruction to dilate. She’d calmed down a great deal since they’d reached the controlled environment of the hospital by transporter two hours before, her mindset of silent endurance that was more usual for her seemed to have reined in her emotional side, at least enough to stop her being able to express it.

“She’s at three and a half centimetres, labour isn’t considered active until four centimetres, I’ll let do whatever’s most comfortable for the rest of the labour but for now walking around is the best thing to speed everything along.” The Doctor replied tiredly. He had a tricorder constantly trained on Seven, couldn’t Chakotay realise that if there was something else to do to help he’d know it before he did?

“If your water breaks before then we’ll let you lie down Seven.” Sandra, the midwife in attendance, kindly advised.

“Would that mean that there’s something wrong with the baby?” Seven asked, her voice catching painfully as another contraction, they were less than five minutes apart now, started.

Sandra made sure her reassuring glance caught both Chakotay and Irene’s eyes too as she answered Seven, “Not at all, just that your baby’s eager to see you.”

Seven’s face relaxed in relief even as the pain still lingered, but as she saw another doctor walk through the door in front of her she stiffened again. “Dr Perritt, what are you doing here?”

Dr Perritt, a fair-headed man in his late fifties, smiled at her warmly, though he obviously picked up on the dread in her face. “The Doctor called me to tell me you were in labour and I thought I’d better come in to start the monitoring of the baby while you’re still in the early stages so that we’re nice and prepared when you’re ready to deliver.”

Seven shot the Doctor a fearful, almost betrayed, look. “But I…”

“Seven…” The Doctor reasoned, “I told you we’d need a neonatologist to come in. Dr Perritt will check the baby over after it’s born while I’m attending to you and how you’re implants are doing.”

“You said the baby seemed healthy…” Seven choked out, her tone becoming more and more high-pitched.

The Doctor grasped her shoulder and forced her to meet his gaze even as she tucked herself tighter into Chakotay for comfort. “It does seem fine right now Seven, I’m very pleased with your progress so far, but you know better than anyone that we can’t be too careful…”

Chakotay couldn’t help but mirror Seven’s violent flinch, but moved to soothe her anyway; coaxing her to just lean her already exhausted body on him and ignore anything else, but the Doctor’s words had grazed too sensitive a nerve. She gave the hologram a hard, unblinking stare, her wounded gaze narrowed, “Yes, I suppose I do know.” She answered harshly, making the Doctor grimace guiltily.

“Seven…” Chakotay finally verbally intervened, pulling her head down onto his shoulder as he felt her shudder in anticipation of another wave of pain.

“It’s all just a precaution.” Dr Perritt said quietly, smiling kindly down at Seven’s bowed head, “It may well be that I’m sitting in a corner with very little to do throughout all this. I’m just here as a backup for the Doctor really.”

Seven sighed at his tactful words, realising once again that she’d perhaps overreacted initially. “I know, thank you Dr Perritt.” She took a leaden step back from Chakotay; standing still brought on another layer of discomfort, of back pain and pressure, “I meant no offence…” The apology was abruptly cut off by a lightning strike of pain surging through her nerves, and she felt her knees buckle even before she heard the sound of her own startled cry hitting ears. The unquantifiable…gushing sensation was immediately repulsive to her, she couldn’t help associating it with blood, with life draining away from her…

“That’s your waters broken now.” Dr Perritt declared, sounding impossibly calm, “You really are doing well, everything looks fine.”

Seven found herself gasping repeatedly as Sandra, with the help of a game Irene, helped her stand again. “It won’t stop…” She muttered in disgust as she felt and watched the strangely warm fluid cascade down the inside of her legs. With her research and preparation from before, she had of course known that membranes cushioning the baby would rupture at some point, but the uncontrollable nature of the process in reality was frightening her, it was like she had a tap inside her that she had no say in turning on or off.

Sandra chuckled, obviously having heard that complaint before. “It’s not supposed to honey, not until it’s all out. Try not to worry about it.” She put an arm around Seven’s waist and began to lead her to the bed, “The good thing about it is that you’ll probably dilate a lot faster now, and that you get to lie down, right Doctor?”

“Right.” The Doctor agreed readily, visibly trying to lighten his tense, sombre features. “I’ll check you over more thoroughly when you’re comfortable.”

“How probable is that, being comfortable?” Seven ground out drily through gritted teeth as she tried to ease her seizing, cramping body up into the bed, the violent burst of fluid having eased to a constant trickle down her legs.

The Doctor smiled at her affectionately as he pulled the sheets back for her, “Not very probable no, but you are progressing and that’s very good.”

“So we just wait now?” Chakotay asked tersely as he slumped into a chair by the bed, seeking out the nearest of Seven’s clenched hands and grasping it tightly in his own.

“Obstetrics is all one big long waiting game Chakotay. Very different from the immediacy of life on Voyager much of the time I’ll grant you, but just as worthwhile.” The Doctor replied, “If its any comfort, the two of you really are quickly approaching the end of this long journey, I promise.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Chakotay had always considered himself a relatively patient man. Now however, after being in this room for well over six hours, utterly helpless, he knew that wasn’t true. He could only stand letting his eyes roam over the unfilled birthing pool, or the flashing lights of the variety of monitors, for so long before he had to search the two doctors’ alert faces for signs. They revealed nothing, anymore than Sandra’s measured pace as she moved around the room in preparation showed any hint of undue haste or anxiety. Really, the only one he could look to for signs of progress was the only person he wished could join him in this animated suspension of waiting. Seven’s every groan of pain hit him like a fist in the gut, him gasping a little with her in empathy as her body strained and bucked against every contraction. He turned towards her, feeling guilty that he was finding it so difficult to look at her when he should be her staunchest supporter. They’d had a strange flip in position, Seven’s emotions, her dark thoughts, had slipped back under the surface in the clinical, detached environment of the hospital, compared to how frozen with fear she’d been in the familiarity of their home. In contrast, being here was flooding him with memories that he’d managed to avoid elsewhere. Flashbacks of Seven screaming and crying at the terrible climax of her last stint in hospital, in a room eerily similar to this one, haunted him despite all efforts to fight them away…

A whimper from Seven, almost as if she shared his thoughts, pulled him back into reality. He instinctively reached out and stroked the feverish skin of her arm soothingly; she’d advised him earlier that with her enhanced physiology she might accidently fracture his hand if he held hers. She twisted herself further among the disordered, soaked sheets with a moan. Her usually vivid blue eyes were dim and glazed over as she gazed back at him unseeingly. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he saw how out of it she was, the cocktail of painkillers she was on would probably be enough to knock himself and most humans out altogether, the Doctor had said he had to get creative to ease her pain but not give her enough for her implants to react badly. As it was, she was barely sentient. Fragments of the Collective’s code based language and snatches of Swedish too broken for his Universal Translator to pick up were all that had left her lips for the past hour as she slipped into near delirium. The fact that they were almost completely mutually incomprehensible at the moment left him feeling even more impotent and helpless. He was both thankful, and jealous, that Irene understood enough of what Seven muttered out between contractions to be able to offer consistent murmurs of comfort.

He jumped in his chair as he saw the Doctor studying the most recent data of what his tricorder was reeling off. “She’s transitioning.” The normally verbose hologram announced without preamble, “Stop the drugs now, she’ll need to be fully with us.”

“Transitioning?” Chakotay echoed anxiously, standing to his full height now to face the Doctor, “What does that mean?” He demanded when instead of immediately answering the Doctor began to issue instructions to Perritt and Sandra, who both had moved efficiently from restive to ready.

“It means she’s almost ready to push, at 9cm and dilating quickly to reach 10.” The Doctor explained quickly before flashing Chakotay a brief but still reassuring smile, his eyebrows slightly arched, “Didn’t you read those pregnancy data files I sent you?”

Chakotay ran a nervous hand distractedly through his hair, almost choking on a brittle laugh, “I did, but do you know how little sleep I’ve had Doctor? Not good for my memory.”

“That’s only going to get worse you know, it’s called ‘baby brain’.” Sandra told him jovially as she gently tugged him back towards Seven’s bedside, “Be ready to talk her through this if you can, she’s going to be scared when the drug haze she’s under now lifts in a few minutes.” She confided seriously. Chakotay obediently sat back down next to Seven, returning Irene’s wobbly smile as she took her place sitting at the other side. “I’m taking the drip out now.” Sandra informed them both slowly, disconnecting the potent drug drip from the huge canola Seven had embedded in her human hand.

Chakotay inhaled sharply in sympathy as he saw Seven flinch as the drip was removed. The frown marring her beloved, beautiful face was as deep as he’d ever seen it. He rubbed the back of his hand over her cheek as she began to blink dazedly, the dreamy haze of the drugs already beginning to fade away. As guilt shot brutally through him, he had to gulp hard, he knew this would be worth it, but it had been a torturous road. In all honesty, he’d never expected to have children, had believed just a few years ago that his life decisions had led him to give up the chance of a family. After all, being a Maquis leader wasn’t exactly conductive to a peaceful existence and by the time Voyager and his crew had collided in the Delta Quadrant he’d already passed forty, add to that the fact that really the role of First Officer, in his view of it anyway, didn’t fit any better with the traditional role of husband and father anymore than his life in the Maquis had. He didn’t like to think of it, but he’d gradually become apathetic, even jaded, towards the lonely turn his life was taking. He’d accepted, or at least had believed that he had, that the binding love of his parents, of Tom and B’Elanna too, wasn’t going to be part of his life. He’d had relationships of course, flings on away missions more accurately, he was a passionate man, but he’d long since stopped believing there would be anything else. Occasionally while on Voyager, the depressing fact that his longest relationship in the span of a decade had been with Seska would resound in his head as he sat alone in his quarters. Then there had been Seven. Many people later would say that their love had bloomed suddenly, joining only two dots in their relationship, those between him trying to suck her out of an airlock and then four years later being caught kissing while braced against that very same airlock. The two of them knew it hadn’t been like that though, firstly respect, then confidence and affection, and finally love. It had blossomed into marriage, and he knew he would’ve been contented if they’d never conceived, after all he’d never expected a love like theirs, how could he ask for more than it seeing them into their twilight years and beyond? Seven had seen it differently, much as she tried not to. He understood why, she was young, there was almost nineteen years between them, and it had showed only in this. Despite her trauma with the Borg there was no reason why she, who was so good with children, should resign herself to childlessness the way he had before he’d even met her. She’d been so happy, relieved, when she’d fallen pregnant the first time, and he’d been surprised how deeply that happiness had penetrated his soul too. The second time they’d both embraced that joy wholeheartedly, perhaps too readily with hindsight, but now here they were, having survived that together. It hurt so much. Even the thought of that pain again cast a shadow over this longed for result…

“Chakotay?” Seven’s weakened voice managed to reach his ears, “What happened? I can’t remember…”

“I’m not surprised.” Chakotay said softly, leaning over so that their faces were almost touching, “Those painkillers you asked for really knocked you out, I couldn’t understand what you were saying most of the time you were so delirious…”

“Really?” Seven asked disbelievingly, her breath leaving her in short bursts. She couldn’t remember anything but the strike of each contraction for a long stretch of time back, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Chakotay interrupted firmly, kissing her forehead as she began to cling to him for support as another contraction built up within her. “It probably spared me from hearing a lot of curses directed at me. Irene didn’t provide me with a running translation, but…”

“I would never curs…” Seven started to say, but the thought flew out of her head as the full power of the contraction seized her, coupled with a new punishing pressure in her lower back and between her legs. “ _Ah_!” She shrieked in shock, digging her nails into her side in a vain attempt to unwind the muscles. She fell back against the bed again as another wave of the same pain struck her again almost as soon as the first ended, within seconds. “Doctor!” she cried out fearfully.

“Don’t worry Seven, whatever it might feel like to the contrary, this is perfectly normal.” The Doctor told her smoothly, pulling out his tricorder once more as Sandra began to pull her patient’s shaking legs apart, “That pain, the pressure, means you’ve entered the second stage. You’re 10cm dilated.”

Seven felt her stomach lurch, tears of fears she no longer had the energy to be ashamed of burning at her eyes. “But...I can’t _push_ now Doctor, not with this pain, there must be something wrong…”

“No, nothing, I promise Seven. This is just the process. We’ll all help you through it, okay?” The Doctor consoled her patiently.

Seven saw the lack of panic on all face except Chakotay’s as another contraction slammed into her and as her mind cleared a little as it ended she knew they were being truthful. “Just breathe through it again Annika, and scream if you want, it’ll all be over after this.” Irene advised gently, helpfully pushing damp strands of hair out of Seven’s face as she repositioned to hunch over her swollen belly in preparation for pushing.

Seven couldn’t take much comfort from the advice to scream, in fact she felt more ready to be sick again. “I feel nauseous again…” She whispered as she fought the urge to ignore the Doctor’s instructions and curl in on herself. Sandra was prepared for that, a small bucket already held out for her, and this time Seven did manage to completely empty her drug-addled stomach. “I’ve had enough of labour now…” She admitted brokenly as she sank back on the bed.

“The only effective way of doing that is to start pushing just as I tell you.” The Doctor told her, knowing just the right language to use with his old friend. 

* * *

The process of was much more drawn out than she’d anticipated before. She was in too much agony to keep count as accurately as she would have, but she knew she’d been pushing for a long time. Her energy supply was utterly exhausted, she doubted she could lift a finger if she wanted to but yet she was still pushing with apparently very little progress. “I want one _big_ push from you now Seven.” The Doctor instructed briskly, “Try not to expend energy on making a noise now, concentrate _all_ you have on this.”

“I can’t…” Seven whispered almost inaudibly, her voice hoarse from panting and screaming through her previous pushes. She turned her eyes to Chakotay pleadingly, “Please…”

Chakotay’s pale face managed to form a smile, “Really Seven, this might be the last one, we can all see the baby’s head.” He cupped her face as she released a haggard sigh, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I know you’re completely spent…”

Seven took a deep breath as she felt another contraction climb up her body. It really did seem like resistance, against labour at least, was futile. Struggling to find a grip on the slippery sheets as her whole body burned, she forced her muscles to flex and propel again with every piece of physical and mental strength she had left. Just as she thought she’d failed, she felt something heavy start to slip against her thighs. She lifted her head enough then to see her baby’s head, her shocked gasp ragged and breathless with the surreal sight as well as the partial relief. “Just short, little pushes now.” The Doctor told her, his voice quieter now.

Seven’s own head was throbbing until she was almost blinded as she tried to obey. Thankfully, panting at the force of the contractions finally seemed to kick in and within moments she heard a high pitched, startled, breathy wail. A weight was suddenly lifted onto her flopping stomach, wetness soaking through her hospital gown. “You have a little girl.” Seven could hear the beaming smile in the Doctor’s voice without looking at him, her gaze already utterly fixated on the baby.

She appeared healthy, stubbornly alive as she wriggled into her. “Another girl…” Seven breathed faintly as she tentatively let her fingers brush against the baby’s wet but still silky soft skin, though that skin was only a few shades pinker right now that the blue fleshiness of the umbilical cord. It took the taste of salt on her lips to realise that tears were streaming down her face, to become aware of the sobs wracking her chest.

She heard Chakotay beside her, his breath catching as if he wasn’t sure whether to cry along with her or laugh. “Well done honey…” He breathed huskily against her ear as he too looked down at their daughter, his smile widening, all evidence of his exhaustion gone. “She’s perfect…” He murmured in wonder as he too let his hand settle on the baby’s tiny, downy head and used the scissors Sandra happily handed him to cut the cord.

The Doctor looked into the new parents’ faces with a pensive smile on his face. “We’re just going to have to check that by taking her over to the diagnostic station…” He said softly, giving Seven’s hand a sympathetic, reassuring squeeze before lifting the baby away carefully and handing her over to waiting Dr Perritt.

Seven gaped for a split second before her face froze into stricken terror as Perritt disappeared with her daughter to the back of the room out of her sight. “No!” she choked out in a thin cry, “Bring her back…don’t take her away…” Panicky adrenaline urged her to try to get up, but her body collapsed unwillingly back onto the bed.

“Seven, Seven….” Chakotay told her fiercely, kneeling on the floor by the bed, “Of course they’ll bring her back. They’re just checking she’s okay, I promise you my love…”

“What if she’s not okay?” Seven forced out tearfully, struggling against her leaden body to sit up and crying out in panic and frustration when Chakotay and Irene pleaded with her to calm down. “Please go and see her Chakotay, please…” She begged him.

Chakotay stiffened, his loyalties agonisingly split. He was almost as desperate to see the baby, although he could still hear her crying, as Seven was but he didn’t feel able to leave his wife when she was on the verge of distraught hysteria. “I will darling, but they’re probably already bringing her back…” He tried to rationalise with her.

Irene turned to him as she tried to dry her niece’s tears. “Just go be with the baby right now, I’ll stay with Annika.” She sighed in relief as Chakotay understood her with a grateful nod and rose to follow Dr Perritt. “He’s away to be with her now Annika, everything’s fine. You can hear her crying can’t you?”

Seven forced herself to gulp, her world spinning with dizziness and lingering pain. “Yes…” She whispered in relief, surprised when the frightened tears kept flowing, “Oh, I’m being so irrational…” She realised guiltily.

Irene chuckled weakly, “Min älskling, you just had a baby, of course you’re not completely rational…”

“Yes Seven, your hormones are playing tricks on you, that’s all.” The Doctor assured her kindly, “From what I’ve seen of your daughter, she _is_ perfect. You’ll get her back when I’m sure _you’re_ fine, you still have to deliver your placenta…” He broke off and immediately started to attend to her, his face tensing as he stared down at his tricorder.

“What’s wrong?” Seven heard Irene mutter as another, if less intense, pain gripped her.

The Doctor ignored her, completely focused. “Just relax Seven.” He instructed her quickly. Seven tried to, but as she looked down the bed at him she realised that the bed sheets were rapidly turning crimson beneath her. A gasp of horror caught in her throat, but she was already starting to swoon, black spots intruding on her blurring vision. A hypospray plunged into her throat and as her world began to refocus, she heard the Doctor mutter, “Thank God…” He smiled at her as she found his gaze, “Just stopping a post-partum haemorrhage, you’ll be okay now as long as you start a blood and nanoprobe transfusion. The good news is that your labour really is over now.”

Chakotay had frozen en-route back to the bed, his daughter snuffling in his arms with Perritt just behind him, upon hearing the Doctor’s words. “You’ve helped her Doctor?” he asked thickly, his eyes morbidly fixated on the bloody sheets Sandra was expertly removing. “She’ll be okay? Should I…” He began to rant, his tight chest bringing his breathing to a halt for several seconds.

“I won’t be going anywhere, but the danger has passed.” The Doctor assured him, stepping aside, with an indulgent grin at the baby as he scanned her, to allow Chakotay to return to Seven.

“What did Dr Perritt say?” Seven demanded, her drained face tight with worry even as she opened her arms to cradle her new baby to her.

Chakotay grinned at her, trying not to focus on how deathly pale her complexion was, as he carefully lowered their daughter from his arms into hers. “That I was to bring her straight back to you.” He murmured, kissing her lightly on the hair as she bowed over the baby, utterly absorbed by her. He swallowed as he remembered Perritt’s guilty expression as they’d both listened to Seven’s distressed cries. “He needed to check her for wayward nanoprobes, but there are none. She’s a perfectly healthy full-term human baby.”

“Perfect…” Seven echoed in a relieved whisper as she gazed adoringly down at her daughter in dazed wonder, “Thank goodness.”

Chakotay tilted her head up for a moment to kiss her, full on the lips this time. “Thank _you_.” He murmured intently.

Seven smiled at him softly over the baby’s head as she rested her cheek there. “You’re welcome, and thank you too.”

The baby’s confused, snuffling whimpers developed suddenly into shrill cries and Chakotay chuckled wryly as he tried to help Seven settle her, “Maybe she’s annoyed we didn’t thank her too…”

Seven shifted in discomfort as she held the baby to her chest, blushing a little as she realised she was already expressing milk in response to the baby’s wails. “No, I think she’s hungry…” She twisted her head round to the Doctor as he approached to begin her blood transfusion, “Can I feed her Doctor?”

“If you don’t, she’ll soon be crying louder.” The Doctor half-joked, before smiling in understanding of her anxiety, “Your cybernetic systems won’t effect breastfeeding at all, don’t worry.”

Seven nodded distractedly in acknowledgement, grimacing despite herself as she let the baby latch onto her. She began to suckle strongly immediately. Chakotay watched her expression in concern, “Does it hurt?”

“It feels…strange, yes.” Seven admitted reluctantly, knowing he’d fret over her now. “But not as uncomfortable as not feeding her.” She added quickly, considering the shock the crying was to her ears and the painful build up of milk in her breasts.

Chakotay relaxed a bit, “Okay then.” He replied softly, before flashing his distinctive happy grin at her as he realised something. “You know we’ll have to name her before our old crew turn up here banging at the door. I think the Doctor will be able to put them off until afternoon visiting hours to give you a rest, but we’re soon going to be invaded.”

A fond smile at the thought of her friends tugged mildly at Seven’s lips, but really her thoughts were quite distant from them as her eyes swept over her daughter over and over again. Somewhere deep inside, this still didn’t feel quite real, even as the baby cuddled into her skin for warmth as she sucked. "I suppose now that she’s here, ours, we should name her…” She let her voice trail off, the last of her adrenaline starting to drain away. Honestly, she didn’t want to think of anything right now, she just wanted to be sure of the child in her arms and fall asleep...

Chakotay touched her arm lightly, his face warm with love and understanding as he looked between the two beloved faces of his girls. “You’re too tired, we can talk about it later…”

Guiltily roused by his kindness, Seven shifted position to let the baby nurse on the other side. “She’s not going to let me sleep for a little while yet.” She reminded him, “What do you suggest for her name?”

“Well…” Chakotay started thoughtfully, “I’d be happy with naming her after you…”

Seven’s metal brow rose in teasing amusement, “I can explain away questions about my designation, but…”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Chakotay replied, “Annika is a beautiful name for a lovely girl.”

Seven freed one hand from holding the baby to squeeze his, “Thank you.” She murmured, “But she should have her own name. What about one of the names your people use?”

Chakotay shook his head, “There aren’t actually that many names in my language, and anyway, I can see that she’s going to take after you…”

“Is that your way of saying that you don’t want me to accidently name her after one of your ex-girlfriends?” Seven asked, completely deadpan.

“I didn’t have that many girlfriends when I lived on Dorvan Seven…” He protested, but then flushed a little, “But yeah, that thought did cross my mind if you chose a name from my native tongue…”

“Don’t worry; I wouldn’t have inflicted one of your bad memories on her…” Seven assured him, laughing even as her body and the baby both complained at the slight movement.

“Am I missing something?” Irene commented wryly as she stood in the doorway cradling a mug of coffee.

“We were discussing names Aunt Irene.” Seven explained tiredly.

Chakotay looked to her for support, “Irene, how many variants of Annika are there? Your niece is being resistant to the idea of naming her daughter exactly after her.” His affectionate smile in Seven’s direction as he said this revealed that he wasn’t truly annoyed.

Irene’s blue eyes, so like Seven’s and those of her new great-niece, lit up with pleasure at being asked. “Oh, well I’m fine with that stubbornness, having two Annikas would confuse _me_ at least.” She laughed softly as she sat down beside Chakotay, looking between the couple warmly, “I _do_ think choosing a similar name would be very sweet though.” She saw Seven blush a little as she nodded slowly and knew that her niece had only refuted her husband’s idea out of modesty. “I think our family has used _all_ the possible variants at some point, we’re very much creatures of habit. Anna, Annika of course, Annelie, Anja…”

“I recall thinking that our family historically used a very limited range of female names when I researched my genealogy on Voyager.” Seven remarked thoughtfully, “Daughters were almost invariably called Anna, Elisabeth or an appropriate diminutive.”

“Yeah, your grandmother really kicked up a storm in the family when she insisted on breaking the mould by calling me Irene.” Irene agreed, “There’s been several of those Anna names I mentioned used, as well as several Elses, Lisas, Beths…” She smiled sentimentally to herself, “I remember, if either my Jakob or Matthias had been a girl, I wanted to call her Anneliese, since that’s a combination of both…”

Chakotay paused, his ears liked the name but he wasn’t sure his mouth would wrap around Irene’s strongly Nordic pronunciation and accent to say it himself. “Anna-LEES-ah…” He sounded out, finding it easier to say than he’d thought. “How do you spell it?”

Irene and Seven exchanged a small, knowing smirk. “A-n-n-e-l-i-e-s-e.” Seven spelled out, “Anneliese.” She said it easily, for a moment taking on her native Swedish accent the Borg had made her forget. “It’s a lovely name, very appropriate.” She murmured as she studied her daughter’s face with suspended wonder once again.

“It is.” Chakotay agreed happily, moving to sit on the edge of the bed to be closer to his family. He could see from the contented expression on Seven’s face that, although she might not say so, their baby’s name had just been chosen. He laughed good-naturedly to himself as he reached over to caress a fingertip down his now sleeping daughter’s feather soft cheek. “Hello Anneliese, I promise I’ll remember how to spell your name before you have to, it’s not like ‘Chakotay’ is any easier to write at first either.”

Seven kissed his cheek, “She won’t need to call you Chakotay, you’re her Papa, remember?” she whispered in his ear.

“How could I forget?” Chakotay replied in the same tone,  carefully positioning his arm to give her fragile body a gentle hug.

“Why don’t you hold her for a while in that capacity as her father?” Seven suggested softly, slowing moving Anneliese from her arms, they were shaking with exhaustion, to his.

Chakotay responded by giving her a grateful kiss as his arms curled protectively around their daughter. “Of course.”

Seven now let herself relax completely, sinking fully back onto the bed to watch the scene, even as her eyes began to drift closed. “I think I’m reconsidering our decision about a middle name…” She mumbled as she dreamily focused Chakotay with Anneliese.

Chakotay’s gaze snapped up from Anneliese’s face to her own in surprise. “Why’s that love? Any ideas?”

“If you wanted her first name after me, why can’t I want her middle name to be in your honour?” Seven pointed out, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she took in his slightly shocked expression.

“What, like Taya?” he asked uncertainly, “Seven honey, I wasn’t being serious when I suggested that to Tom and B’Elanna before, you don’t have to…”

Seven gave a tired laugh, “Miral wasn’t yours, Anneliese is.” She met his eyes seriously, suddenly wide awake again, “I want to, nothing about this in an obligation.”

Chakotay smiled, having to blink back a sudden tear or two at her words. “No, it never has been has it?” he murmured, only now noticing that Irene had left them alone again. Carefully, he laid Anneliese down on the bed beside Seven and settled on his side facing Seven so that the baby was between them. “Anneliese Taya Kotay it is then.” He confirmed with a soft smile.

Seven nodded in agreement, but fresh tears still reflected on her pale cheeks as she returned the smile. “We’re going to be fine now, aren’t we?” she whispered.

Chakotay cupped her face with his warm hand, slowly brushing her tears away with his broad thumb. “Yes my love, we’re fine now and tomorrow looks good too.”

**A/n: PLEASE REVIEW! :D**

 

 

 

 

 


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